Blush
by Fictionista 48
Summary: She isn't the type to get embarrassed. And she certainly isn't the type of woman to blush over a compliment. Until it comes from her partner, that is. Second chapter is M Rated. Heed the warning, please.
1. Chapter 1

**In honor of Valentines Day, and also one of my most favorite reader/reviewers ever - Celia Stanton's - birthday, I give you this. Just a bit of virtual cotton candy for your brain. Sweet and fluffy. Chapter 2 will post later today also. Enjoy! And Happy Birthday, E!**

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><p>Marty Deeks has seen his partner dressed in all sorts of ways. He's seen her in her normal getup; tight little jeans and an equally tight tee. He's watched her laze around in sweats. He's also seen her dressed like an heiress and a stripper. And he's sure he'll never forget the bikinis. He's watched her stroll out of wardrobe looking like a vision, completely taking his breath away. And yet, when she walks out of the locker room and into the bullpen after work tonight, ready for a date, he nearly loses his pulse.<p>

Kensi walks out like it's any other evening, like she isn't dressed like woman with somewhere incredibly important to go, with someone incredibly special waiting. The red dress she wears is clingy in all the right ways, accentuating her perfect body. It dips low in the back, showing off the curve of her spine, down to the swell of her hips, and it's just low cut enough in the front to make his eyes widen. But it isn't just sexy. It's more than that. The color of the dress is the perfect compliment to her dark hair and tan skin. Matching red stilettos and sparkly jewelry complete the ensemble.

He watches her walk into the bullpen to collect her bag and shut down her computer. She's fiddling with a diamond earring; possibly putting the back on it, lower lip caught between her teeth, totally unaware she's being watched. And in her unguarded state, she's like someone else. Someone soft and feminine. Someone he'd like to get to know better. He should stop staring. But he can't. He can't quite wrap his head around how she looks right now.

She finishes with the earring, and finds the handful of heart-shaped Dove dark chocolates he laid on her desk while she was getting dressed. She picks one up and smiles. "Thanks, Deeks. This is sweet."

He shrugs. "Happy Valentine's Day, partner." He keeps staring, because damn it, he just can't stop.

"To you, too." She drops the candy in her purse and turns to leave, then meets his gaze. "Hey. Got any plans tonight?"

"Um…no. Nope, just going home. Might catch a wave if there are any. You obviously have plans, though, yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Big date?"

"Um…maybe. I don't know. It's dinner and whatever."

He hates the sudden jealousy he feels. It isn't the first time, that's for sure. But tonight, for some reason he can't quite grasp, it's infinitely more acute. Almost painful. "Second date?"

She laughs. "Why would it be the second, Deeks?"

"I don't know. You look…" He can't find the words, and strangely, can't find a smart-ass comment, either.

She looks over at him, a smile tugging at her lips. Clearly, she's enjoying his discomfort. "I look what?"

He shrugs. He thinks of telling her she looks nice. Then he lets his eyes wander over her, and can't help but say what he's thinking. "Beautiful. You're beautiful, Kens."

She says nothing, clearly having no idea what to say. She obviously wasn't expecting that particular answer. She swallows and fidgets with her purse. Then, he sees something he's never seen before. A soft flush creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks in a light blush. His heart nearly stops. Maybe it's the uncharacteristic nervousness, or the way she's slightly off balance, but that blush is the sexiest, most alluring thing he's ever seen. Still, he hates that he's made her uncomfortable.

"You look like it must be something special," he says, trying to ease her discomfort. "Like _he's_ something special."

"Thanks," she says, softly. She grabs her purse and walks away. "See you tomorrow. Don't freeze to death surfing."

He starts to open his mouth, but shuts it. She didn't answer him. She didn't confirm or deny that it's a second date. She didn't confirm or deny that it's something special. That _he's_ something special, whoever _he_ is. The jealousy he felt seconds ago intensifies, and he feels a bit queasy. Could she really have someone special waiting for her? Could their _thing_ really just be a joke between them? He thinks back over the past few months of their partnership. He thought they were growing close. He thought maybe – just _maybe_ – it could end up being more.

He waits until he's sure she's gone, before leaving. He goes to the beach, but he doesn't surf. He sits on the cold sand, staring out over the steel gray February ocean, thinking of her. Of them. He's know for a while that his feelings aren't strictly platonic, that he'd be happy to explore their thing if she gave him any indication she was willing. She hasn't. Except for the day he announced he'd been fired from NCIS. That day, he couldn't possibly let her say whatever it was she wanted so badly to tell him. Not in the middle of a lie.

That day had been filled with trepidation and self-loathing. The very last thing on earth he ever wanted to do was to lie to her. He'd begged Hetty and Callen to include her in the op. He had worked too hard to gain her trust – no, to _earn_ her trust – to throw it away with a lie. Even a lie that worked for the greater good. But he'd had no choice, and he'd followed through. Her anger he had fully expected. The anger was one thing. The look of hurt in her dark eyes, as she'd stared at him from the backseat was quite another. And it had nearly taken him down. Had they not been in the crucial stages of a mission, he's sure it would have.

When it was over, he'd been ready to hear whatever it was she'd wanted to say. When it was over, though, she'd said nothing.

He's wondered what it was ever since. What did she need to say? What could she not have left unsaid had they been forced to part ways? That she feels the same attraction to him that he feels for her? That she feels a connection with him? That she wants more than the odd, playful, platonic partnership that they have? He wonders if he'll ever know.

He hears voices, and looks over at the tide line. A couple walks hand in hand, laughing together. She's holding a single red rose, one the man at her side obviously gave to her. They look incredibly happy and in love. As they walk down the beach at sunset, the last golden rays backlighting them, they look like a greeting card commercial. It makes Deeks' heart hurt a little. He wants that. And he wants it with Kensi.

He thinks about settling down. About a wife and kids. He can't imagine Kensi slowing down long enough to be someone's mother. She's too badass, too kickass, and that's fine. He can't imagine her tied to the word _wife_, doing common, domestic things. The life they lead isn't exactly conducive to PTA meetings and carpools. No, he can't quite picture being married with kids. Not right now. A relationship with his beautiful, badass partner he can imagine, though, and it makes him ache inside.

This isn't doing him any good. He gets up and brushes off the sand and drives home. He could go sit in a bar somewhere and drown his sorrows, maybe bring home a girl whose just as lonely and lost as he is tonight. But he doesn't. He goes home and showers, then lies down on the couch and tortures himself. He doesn't even try to stop the visions of her in that dress, of the blush on her cheeks. He should, but he doesn't. He's falling for her, damn it. And he can't seem to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

**As promised, Chapter 2. This final chapter is _M RATED_. Heed the warning, please, and move along if adult content is offensive. Again, Happy Valentines, and Happy Birthday, E. Enjoy!**

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><p>The guy had asked her out, and she had seen no reason to say no. Why not? It's Valentine's Day, after all. The day for romance. The day to indulge in wine and chocolate and to allow herself to be pampered by a man. Even if he isn't quite the right man. She had met him while in line for coffee a few days ago, and although he isn't really her type anymore, she had agreed to go out with him. He looked military, with his dark, cropped hair and square jaw, perfect posture, and commanding presence. At one time, he would have caught her eye immediately. Funny, how things change. Funny how her type has shifted over the past two years, from dark-haired, dark-eyed military types, to scruffy blue-eyed blondes, and how she notices surfers now, instead of soldiers.<p>

She sat attentively, listening to Adam talk about his time in Iraq, his time in Afghanistan, and his new life in L.A. He was happy, eyes sparkling, totally well adjusted. Nothing like Jack had been after his tours in the desert. Adam bought her dinner at an upscale restaurant, brought her flowers, and took her for dessert. He was a gentleman, sweet and respectful, never saying or doing anything to make her wary or uncomfortable. In theory, he was just about perfect. Except he wasn't.

The night had gone well, and any normal woman would have immediately signed up for a second date. Any normal woman would have invited him in for coffee at the end of the evening, and probably would have let him kiss her goodnight before closing the door and allowing him to follow her into her dreams. Any normal woman would have been over the moon with anticipation of seeing him again. More than a few would have taken him to bed. Kensi Blye, however, has never been accused of being normal.

Though she tried to stop herself, she couldn't keep from making mental comparisons between Adam and Deeks. It was stupid, really. It isn't like she's ever dated Deeks. It isn't like he's ever taken her to a romantic dinner or brought her flowers, or kissed her at her doorstep. He's her partner, plain and simple, and it's idiotic to think of him any other way. To want him any other way. She can't quite get over it, though…that comment earlier at her desk. He'd said she was beautiful. And that had done it.

She's seen the way he looks at her when Hetty's got her all dressed up for a case. She's seen the way he watches her from the corner of his eye, taking her in. She's used to it. She knows she's an attractive woman. It's no secret. Men tell her all the time, whether with words or with gazes. Hell, even Deeks himself has referred to her as hot. He's told her she's looked gorgeous. But there's just something intimate about the word beautiful. And when that word left his lips, she felt something warm inside, something that radiated out and into her face. She's not one to be embarrassed, and she's certainly not one to blush over a compliment. But there was just something about _that_ word, coming from _that_ person.

Adam had walked her back to her car, telling her what a wonderful time he'd had with her. He'd waited a moment, probably hoping she'd lean in and kiss him. When she didn't, he kissed her cheek and smiled, squeezing her hand and saying goodnight. And as she had watched him walk away, she'd felt nothing. No longing to call him back over, no desire to follow him home. No, she'd felt a different longing. A different desire.

It's nearly eleven o'clock, and she thinks she might just be crazy. But as she climbs out of the SRX, she decides not to care. She decides to let go for once, and just do what her heart wants her to do. She goes to his door and smoothes her dress, feeling butterflies flutter in her chest. This is it…

He opens the door as soon as she knocks, and the look on his face says he isn't sorry to see her. At first he looks concerned, like something must be wrong. She is here late, and coming off a date. He surveys her quickly, clearly seeing she's intact, and relaxes visibly.

"Kensi. Hey. Come on in. Everything okay?"

Her heart beats stupidly fast, and she tells herself to calm down. She's been here before. He's just her partner. "Hey. Everything's fine."

He looks perplexed, like there has to be a reason for her visit. "Um…how was your date?"

She follows him to the living room and joins him on the couch. She can't miss the way he looks at her, the same way he did at work. It's a look of awe and appreciation. She bites her lip. "Good. It was good. I had a nice time."

He nods. "Great." He obviously can't think of anything intelligent to say, and she can't blame him. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Kens, because I'm always happy to see you, but…what are you doing here?"

_Good question_. "Um…I don't know. I just…" She shrugs, feeling suddenly self-conscious and foolish. "I wasn't ready to go home yet, I guess. I can leave if you were going to bed." She half expects him to come back with some crack about her joining him, but he doesn't.

"I wasn't. Wanna tell me about your date?"

"It was fine. Dinner. You know, the typical Valentine's thing."

He smiles. "Hearts and flowers?"

She shrugs.

His voice takes on an edge. "He was a gentleman, right? He didn't do anything stupid."

"No, he was very nice. A perfect gentlemen. Why, Deeks?" She smiles. "You going to kick his ass if he wasn't?"

He laughs. "I imagine you probably would have done that yourself." He grows quiet. "But yeah, I would." He stares at her, that look of awe in his eyes again, like earlier this evening. There's something else to it, though.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He smiles softly. "I thought we covered that earlier."

She looks at her hands in her lap, feeling her heart flutter. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"You're beautiful, Kensi." His voice is little more than a whisper.

She feels the flutters again, and that warmth brought on by those words, as it spreads from her chest to her throat and finally, her face.

He gazes at her. "I like that color on you."

She touches the silky red fabric of her dress. "This?"

"No," he murmurs, reaching to touch her face. "This."

Her heart does double time as he closes the small space between them. He gazes into her eyes for a moment, his, a deep ocean blue. And then they close, and his lips touch hers, tentatively at first. Her breath catches, and he clearly takes it as a sign. He cups the back of her neck with one hand, while placing the other on her hip. His lips move over hers, tenderly, slowly, as if gauging her response. She can't exactly believe this is happening, and it takes her a moment to respond.

He pulls back, looking deep into her eyes, a look of hesitancy on his face, his voice soft. "Want me to stop?"

She shakes her head, but can't speak. It's the last thing she wants. She opens her mouth and her eyes close, and she feels his breath mingle with hers before their lips meet again. This time, she responds. She moves one hand to his bicep, and one into the hair above his collar. It's a silky as she imagined it would be. His tongue finds hers, and he moans, a low, rumbling sound in his throat. He tangles his hand in her hair, kissing her deeply, the other hand grasping her hip.

He pulls back and gazes at her, his eyes dark with want. "God, you're beautiful."

_That word. God, that word._ What is it about those nine letters that makes her dissolve? She kisses him deeply, tasting him, feeling him, breathing him in. She's tried not to imagine this moment. Tried not to imagine it's possible. But it is, and it's here, and she's drowning in it.

He pulls back again, staring into her eyes. "Tell me, Kensi," he breathes against her lips. "Tell me what you wanted to say that day you thought we were done."

She swallows, feeling suddenly vulnerable, stripped bare of all her defenses. "I…"

He kisses her neck, and she moans. "Tell me," he whispers.

She can't think. She can't articulate it. "I can't. I…"

"Show me, then."

She closes her eyes and feels his lips descend on hers, and she winds her arms around him, kissing him desperately, passionately, leaving no mistake as to what she feels. Then she moves to straddle his thighs, never breaking contact.

He moans, and his lips leave hers. He places small kisses along her jaw, and breathes against her ear. Tingles ripple through her, making her head fall back. He kisses the hollow beneath her ear, and softly nips and kisses his way down her neck, his tongue finding her pulse point. She trembles at the feel of him; at the exquisite sensations he's bringing her. He gently bites the place where neck meets shoulder, and she moans.

"Make me stop," he whispers against her skin.

"What?" _Why in God's name would I do that?_

"Make me stop, or I'm taking you to bed."

She whimpers, his throaty words sending electric heat clear to her toes. She feels his mouth take possession of her throat, the wet heat of his tongue traveling down to her collarbone. He breathes against her incensed skin, making her shiver, anticipating his next move.

"I want you, Kensi. I need you," he says, kissing a path down her chest to the deep V of her neckline. His fingers rest on the zipper of her dress, teasing her with promise.

She pulls him back up for a searing kiss, and slips her hands beneath the hem of his tee shirt. His skin is hot, and she savors the feel of his body heat sinking into her palms. He moans in response, and slowly tugs the zipper down the curve of her back, his fingertips skimming the bare skin beneath. It sends more electricity coursing through her, and she pulls his shirt up, desperate for more contact.

He doesn't give in. He keeps his hands on her back, stroking her skin, as he kisses her neck. It's driving her crazy. She tugs the shirt further up his torso, silently begging him to let her remove it. Finally, he raises his arms and she yanks it over his head. She takes him in, staring at his muscled chest, at the fine blonde hair, and the scars he now wears from the shooting at the convenience store. For a brief moment, she remembers the fear of losing him, and she closes her eyes and pulls him into her arms.

He seems to understand, and simply holds her. His fingertips trace circles on her bare back, both bringing comfort, and causing heat to pool low in her belly. She feels the memory of fear fade, and the promise of pleasure take over. He kisses her neck, nibbling and licking his way to her shoulder, where he slips the dress down her arms, not quite exposing her. His lips skim her shoulder, then drop kisses downward, toward the swell of her breast. Her pulse thunders in her ears, and she feels her breath become unsteady the closer he draws.

He slides the fabric down, his lips following. It slips off her fingertips to pool around her hips on his lap, and his hands move to her ribcage, his thumbs lightly dancing over the sides of her breasts. Her breath becomes ragged as his lips touch her nipple. He brushes them against it, and she trembles, letting her head fall back and her eyes close. And when he finally takes it into his mouth, she whimpers and tangles her hands in his hair, engulfed in sensations she's refused to believe he could give her.

"Deeks…"

"Tell me," he breathes against her hot skin, before moving to the other breast.

She moans at the feel of his tongue, encouraging him to continue.

"Tell me." His thumbs stroke her nipples, as he returns his lips to hers.

She can barely breathe, can barely make her brain function. And she certainly can't speak. Not with his lips on hers, and his tongue in her mouth, doing…_that_. That which robs her of her sanity and teases that it could do so much more, if given the opportunity. No, she can't tell him anything. But she can show him.

She stands up, pulling him with her, never breaking contact. In doing so, the sheath of red silk slides off her hips and onto the floor in a crimson puddle at their feet. She feels his hands move to her hips, and his breath catch as he realizes there's very little fabric between his palms and her skin. He opens his eyes and pulls back, looking down at the length of her body, naked save for the red lace panties that barely exist. His eyes darken at the sight.

She steps out of her heels and kicks the dress away, and slides her fingertips down his chest, across the flat plane of his belly, to the button on his jeans. His eyes close as she does so, and he tightens his grip on her hips. She's fought not to think of this moment, of what hides beneath his clothes. She's tried to avoid the fantasy; afraid she wouldn't be able to face him if she gave in to it. But it's here, the fantasy about to become reality.

She slides the denim over his hips and down his legs, and he kicks them off. His breath is heavy with anticipation, his eyes now dilated with passion. But in them, she sees something besides the typical lust. She sees adoration.

He seems to reign himself in, and he draws her into his arms and kisses her slowly. "I think I want to slow down a little," he whispers against her ear.

Confused, she draws back a bit, looking up into his eyes.

"Just a bit, Kens. I don't want to rush through this. I've…I've wanted you for so long."

"I never pegged you as a romantic," she says softly, smiling a little.

"It's Valentine's Day. Isn't that what it's all about?" He kisses her forehead and strokes back a strand of her hair.

"Hearts and flowers?"

"I don't have any flowers, but…the hearts are definitely here." He stares down at her, and his fingers sift through her hair.

She feels the old familiar worry creep up. He's her partner. Should she feel this way about him? Should this really be happening? "What's it going to be like tomorrow? If we let this happen."

"I don't know. We're already nearly naked in each other's arms. Will it be that much less awkward if we stop now?"

She swallows. Will it? Does she care?

He leans down and kisses her deeply, leaving her breathless and clutching at him, before drawing back to look into her eyes. "What do you want, Kensi?" he whispers, moving his lips to her neck, where his tongue dances over her skin.

She moans, a shiver running through her at the feel of his body against hers, and the sound of his throaty whispers at her ear.

She doesn't answer, and he persists, planting kisses along her pulse between his words. "Tell me what you want."

She gasps as his teeth graze her earlobe, and he ghosts his lips over it. "You want me to make love to you, don't you?"

Her breath rushes out at the question, and a delicious tremor ensues.

"I already am, aren't I…just by saying those words." He kisses his way to her mouth, and looks into her eyes. "Tell me."

"I want you."

Another searing kiss. "Show me."

The low rumble of his voice rolls through her, making liquid fire spread throughout her body. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down over his hips, before dragging her fingertips up over them and onto his back. He reciprocates, pushing her panties down off of her, leaving her naked. She trembles as he pulls her against him, kissing her languidly.

"You're shaking," he whispers against her lips.

She drags in a breath, her forehead falling to his shoulder. "I know," she whispers back, trying hard to find some sort of control. It isn't like her to be this far gone over a man. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I do," he says, and takes her hand. He leads her to his bedroom, and pulls back the covers. "Lie with me. I'll make it stop."

He lays down, and she joins him, sliding close. His arms come around her, pulling her to his body. His skin is deliciously warm, and smells like whatever scent he wears, mixed with sunshine and ocean and him. She breathes it in and relaxes in his arms, taking it slow.

"Better?" he asks, rubbing circles on her bare back.

She nods. "You feel so good."

"I can feel better," he says, smiling.

She rolls her eyes, then sobers. "Prove it."

He takes her face in his hand and kisses her, his tongue delving into her mouth. She whimpers, tangling her hand in his hair to pull him closer. He rolls onto her, urging her knees apart with his, pinning her down with his body. She feels him, his hard length pressing against her, and she moans.

"I thought...you wanted to slow down," she says breathlessly.

"We'll go slow," he breathes against her lips. "I'll do everything slowly," he whispers, kissing her lightly. "Like this." Another slow, deep kiss. "And this..." He moves down her neck, sucking softly, biting gently, all the while, his hands caress her naked body. He takes his time making his way back to her breasts, then her belly, teasing her with sensations she's only dreamed of.

"You're still shaking." His voice is silky smooth.

She can barely think. "You said you'd make it stop."

He smiles against her skin. "Looks like I'm making it worse." He breathes against her skin, low on her belly, and she gasps.

She can't respond. Her mind is swirling with passion and desire and sensation. And when she feels his hands slide down her hips and circle to the highest part of her inner thighs, she loses her breath. Then he's separating her gently with his thumbs, his tongue slowly fluttering over the swelling bud of nerves within. Something between a cry and a breathless moan escapes her, and he tightens his hold on her in response. He moves langorously, torturing her with deliberate movements, taking his time in coaxing her to the edge. She pants, hands knotten in his silky hair, practically crying his name. He slips his tongue inside, moving his hands to grasp her hips, and she arches up, barely hanging onto what's left of her composure.

She trembles with her body's promise of release, swaying on the edge of the precipice, dying to fall over. And then he stops. The sudden absence of his mouth leaves cold air on her wet, incensed flesh.

"Deeks..."

"Slow, remember?" he says softly, kissing his way back up. He spends long minutes just kissing her, lying beside her, his hands wandering over her body.

She rolls onto her side, and wraps her arms around him, then raises her leg and wraps it around his hips. He's right there, the tip of him pressing into her. She sucks in a breath, rocking her hips to capture him.

"Please..." she moans into his mouth. The obvious desperation she feels should be embarrassing, but somehow isn't. The fact that she wants him more than she's ever wanted anything in her life makes perfect sense. And the thought that she could actually love him seems oddly acceptable.

"Please what?" he breathes against her lips.

"You know what."

He rocks his hips, teasing her. "Tell me, Kensi."

She can barely make her voice work, and her words come out in a desperate whisper. "Love me."

He stops and looks down at her, his eyes dark with passion and his lips slightly swollen from her kisses. When he speaks, his voice is husky. "I do."

She looks up into those incredible eyes. "Show me."

He kisses her slowly, deeply, with more love than she's ever felt from anyone. He rolls her onto her back, and with one long, deep thrust, he makes her his. She cries out, clutching at him, clinging to him. He gazes down into her eyes, half closed with passion, and kisses her again. "Slow," he whispers, before his lips take possession of hers.

It's a long, slow dance, the gentle give and take of making love stretching on for long minutes. The languid pace he sets is almost painful, but it gives her everything she's ever needed. It feels like love. And when he finally allows her to increase their tempo, it nearly sends her over the edge. He slows her once more, whispering to her, kissing her with increasing passion. He thrusts into her slowly, deeply, making her whimper and moan and arch into him desperately.

"Oh, God...You're torturing me..."

"Slow," he breathes against her ear.

"Please..." she feels herself growing closer. "Please...please..."

He pulls back and gazes down at her, taking her in as if she's the most incredible thing he's ever seen. "God, you're beautiful."

She opens her mouth, but can't respond. He brings his lips down on hers, his tongue finding her own. He thrusts harder, faster, until she's digging her nails into his shoulders, head thrown back into the pillows, crying out with her long-awaited release. And he joins her seconds later, moaning her name. She feels him begin to pulse within her, and it sends her back over the edge, free-falling into total, blissful oblivion, her name a distant cry on his lips.

When it's over, he pulls her onto his chest, and she lies there listening to his heartbeat as it begins to calm. She swears it speaks her name.

He shifts a bit beneath her, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "Why did you come here tonight?"

She feels her pulse accelerate a little. "I..." How to articulate it?

"Can you tell me now? What it was you wanted to say that day?" he asks, stroking her back with his fingertips.

She swallows, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. Despite what they've just experienced together, declaring her feelings still isn't easy. "I wanted to say that...I didn't want to lose you," she whispers. "I...I feel things for you I never thought I'd feel, and if we couldn't be partners anymore...maybe we could be something else. Something more." At that, she looks up at him, into those eyes the color of pacific seawater, and she feels the heat creep into her face.

He smiles softly and strokes her cheek. "I'm sorry I lied that day."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I cut you off, too. I knew that whatever you wanted to say would have changed everything once I came back, and I couldn't let that happen then."

"This changes everything now."

"Yes, it does."

"Was there anything you wanted to say to me that day?" she asks quietly.

He nods. "Everything."

"And now?"

"Are you sure you're ready to hear it?" he asks, stroking her hair from her face.

She nods, feeling her heart race.

"I'm in love with you. And I can't imagine life without you." He looks at her with such reverence, such intensity, it makes her heart skip a beat. "You're so beautiful, Kens."

She gazes up into his eyes, a flush creeping into her cheeks. "I love you, too."

He smiles and touches her cheek. "That color is amazing on you."

She smiles a bit, feeling the heat rise in her face.

"You're not shaking anymore."

"No, I'm not."

"Told you I could make it stop."

"You were the cause of it in the first place."

"Was I? he asks innocently, beginning to kiss her.

"Mhmm." She opens her mouth for him, and his tongue slips inside to find hers. It makes her tremble.

He smiles against her lips. "You're shaking again, partner."

She looks up at him with eyes filled with passion. "So make it stop."


End file.
